


stick like toffee, sip like coffee

by eden22



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: to quote the tweet that inspired this, "if you also have a pwp in you about willy having a come to jesus moment after getting fingerbanged by freddie that would also be cool and good!!"





	stick like toffee, sip like coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splatticus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splatticus/gifts).

_They’re at a team dinner_, is all Willy can think, slightly hysterical as Freddie pushes him into the bathroom ahead of him. They’re at a team dinner and sure, the restaurant is fancy enough that it has individual bathrooms, but they’re still tiny and like, the guys are mostly oblivious but surely _someone_ is gonna notice if they’re gone and– and Freddie is spinning him around, pinning Willy to the counter with nothing more than the force of his gaze. His eyes are dark, and he’s so much bigger than Willy, taller sure but also broader, heavier, and fuck, _fuck_. 

“Fuck,” he says out loud, and Freddie smiles, that small, careful smile of his that never fails to send butterflies stuttering through Willy’s chest. He’d never… he’s never done this, never thought of doing it really, except for how he sometimes maybe had, when Freddie had physically moved him out of his way at practice, easy as anything, just grabbing him and making him go. But even then it wasn’t like– and Freddie was his _teammate_, his friend, the guy who chriped him endlessly about texting him for his opinion on a jacket he wanted to buy, who made Willy buy him lunch when he shut him out at practice. He was his _bro_ and… and he’d also been playing footsie with Willy all night, slowly running his foot up Willy’s leg as he stared him down from across the table, kept eye contact with him as he took a careful sip from his beer, condensation rolling down the glass bottle, dripping onto the table as Willy swallowed roughly. And now he was also _here_, spinning Willy around so fast that Willy has to grab ahold of the edge of the counter to keep his balance. Willy doesn’t know what had possessed him, why he’d followed when Freddie had jerked his head towards the bathroom, had stood and hadn’t looked back like he just knew Willy would follow him, would do what he wanted and Willy guessed he was right because now they were here and Freddie was pressing against his back, the weight of him inescapable, a long, hot, solid line against the entire length of his body. 

“Fuck,” he said again, and Freddie made eye contact with him in the bathroom mirror, the size difference between them so much more obvious like this, with him pressed up so close behind Willy. His hands reached out, grasped Willy’s sides, slid down as Willy shivered until they came to rest on his hips. 

“You want this?” Freddie asked, and then bent down and yup, that was his tongue against the skin of Willy’s neck, his teeth gently grazing the skin there before he presses a gentle kiss to the side of Willy’s jaw and raises his head to again catch Willy’s eyes in the mirror. 

“Yeah,” Willy says, unthinking, not really knowing what he’s agreeing to except for how, now that Freddie is touching him like this, like nothing he’d ever imagined, he kinda didn’t ever want him to stop. Freddie smiles, and it’s big and full and _predatory_ and Willy can’t even begin to process how that makes him feel, how it sends heat rushing down his spine. Freddie raises one of his hands, puts it, huge and hot through the thin fabric of Willy’s shirt, on the centre of his chest. His other hand comes down, around, and yup, yup, he’s opening up the button of Willy’s jeans. Willy would be impressed with how easily Freddie manages it, unbuttoning Willy’s jeans with one hand and sliding the zipper down, down, down, but he’s a bit too focused on just breathing and staying upright under the wave of arousal cresting inside of him. And then Freddie’s sliding his hand, warm and so, so fucking huge into Willy’s briefs and he _really_ can’t think anymore. He’s not completely hard but he’s getting there, is getting there faster as Freddie’s hand covers his cock, the shock of bare skin against bare skin enough to make Willy gasp, his hands finally releasing the counter to find something, anything to grab properly ahold of. He ends up clutching backwards, at the fabric of whatever parts of Freddie’s clothes he can reach. It makes Freddie look back up, dragging his gaze from where it had been focused on the sight of his hand disappearing inside of Willy’s briefs to again make eye contact with Willy in the mirror. He looks hungry, and it’s so fucking hot that Willy thinks that he may actually, genuinely die. 

“You like that?” he asks, ever so slightly squeezing his hand tighter as he does and Willy can’t help the gasp that tears its way from his throat. He nods, helpless to do anything else and yup, there’s that smile again, Willy is done, he’s gone, leave his shoe collection to Auston. Freddie turns his head, kisses Willy’s throat again, the hint of teeth enough to send Willy’s pulse racing but not enough to leave a mark, something that Willy is immediately, incredibly grateful for because he’s not sure he’d be able to bring himself to ask Freddie to stop if he tried to mark Willy up, but he also didn’t think he’d be able to face the guys, coming back from the bathroom with marks all over his neck and oh fuck, the guys. He’d almost forgotten them and he wonders how long they’ve been gone for, if anyone has noticed yet that both him and Freddie have disappeared. If anyone might come looking for them, _jesus_.

Freddie’s hand is hot and dry as he continues to rub it over Willy’s cock, far too slow to satisfy the itch that Willy can feel building beneath his skin. He tries to arch his hips into it, to grind forward, but Freddie just hushes him in a way that makes him flush, holds him tighter with the hand pressed against his chest. He keeps him like that, keeps him trapped as he finally wraps his huge fingers properly around Willy’s cock. He strokes once, twice, and then Willy is whining with the feeling of it, how dry it is. As if he’s heard Willy’s thoughts, Freddie removes his hand, which just makes Willy whine again but then he’s holding it up in front of Willy’s face and ok. Ok. Willy takes a breath and licks Freddie’s hand, runs his tongue over his palm, over his fingers, eyes flicking up to watch Freddie’s face as he experimentally sucks two of them into his mouth. Freddie’s expression is intense as he watches Willy in the mirror but he doesn’t say anything, just puts his hand back into Willy’s briefs when Willy finally releases his fingers. His palm is hot and wet against Willy’s cock when he takes hold of him again, and Willy can’t help the quiet groan that escapes him at the sensation. His movements are still so fuckng slow, far, _far_ too slow for the desperation building beneath Willy’s skin as he slides his hand back and forth over Willy’s cock. He can’t tell if Freddie is moving so slowly because he’s trying to murder Willy or because he’s being constrained by the fact that Willy is still, esentially, completely clothed, but he releases his death grip on Freddie’s shirt and jeans to push his own jeans down over his hips just in case. Free of his briefs, Freddie’s pace doesn’t change, Willy whines his frustration. It’s so much worse now too, because Willy can see it, can see how massive Freddie’s hand is against his cock, how his fingers wrap so completely around him, how he stops to toy with the soft skin of Willy’s foreskin. He can’t look away though, can’t stop himself from watching as Freddie strokes him over and over again. Willy’s just starting to think that he’ll get there anyways, despite the painfully slow pace, when Freddie just… stops. He waits, one beat, then two, and then he looks up to see Freddie already looking back at him in the mirror. 

“Why…” is all he manages to get out, trailing off as Freddie raises the hand not still gripping Willy’s cock to tilt Willy’s head towards his own, to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He lingers there for a moment, breath hot against Willy’s lips before finally releasing Willy’s jaw, letting Willy’s head turn back slightly so that he can whisper into his ear. 

“I want to finger you,” he says, and Willy feels his entire body tense at the unexpected words. He’s never… never even thought about… and handjobs between bros are one thing, something you do in juniors and at worlds and it’s whatever, it’s nothing, but Freddie… _touching_ him like that, that’s different, that’s not _bros_. He says as much, and Freddie huffs out a laugh that makes Willy flush. When he speaks again though his voice is gentle, no mockery buried within it. 

“What if I don’t want this to be bros?” he says, and Willy swallows, rough, as he considers the implications of what Freddie’s saying. Thinks about all the moments leading up to this one that he maybe hadn’t wanted to think about too closely, the way Freddie would look at him sometimes, the way Willy would catch himself watching Freddie in return when he thought Freddie couldn’t see him. The way Freddie would touch him, casual and yet somehow so different from the way he was with any of the other guys. How happy Freddie looked when he made Willy laugh, how Willy’s heartbeat would speed up when he picked up his phone and saw a message from Freddie. The way Willy had maybe – ok, definitely – spent the entire night flirting with Freddie in increasingly obvious ways, pressing himself up against Freddie’s side, interrupting his conversation with Auston to complain at him until he went and got Willy another drink. The look on Auston’s face as he watched him whine at Freddie, the eyeroll he got when he finally turned back to him from watching Freddie walk away and… fuck, Auston was gonna mock him for this forever, wasn’t he. 

And then he thinks about what it might feel like, how huge Freddie’s hands were, how huge his fingers were. How turned on he is, how gentle Freddie has been, how good everything has felt so far, how much he wants _more_ even if he can’t define what more is. 

“Yeah,” he finally says, voice shaky but certain. “Yeah, ok.” Freddie smiles, his small, secret one that Willy is realizing is maybe just meant for Willy. 

“Ok,” Freddie says, and then he’s letting go of Willy completely for the first time since they got into the bathroom. Willy sways forward, braces himself on the counter, watches in the mirror as Freddie does… something he can’t see behind his back. He hears the click of a container opening though, shivers when he hears it click back shut, when Freddie again raises his head to meet Willy’s eyes. He steps back into Willy’s space, places a steadying hand against Willy’s hip. 

“Ok?” he asks, and Willy can’t do anything but swallow and nod. Freddie’s other arm is still hidden behind Willy’s body, but Willy can see the shift of Freddie’s shoulder as he reaches down, down, and then Willy’s twitching as he finally touches him. His fingers are still so fucking hot, and _slick_ as they trail softly over the skin between his legs before they finally come to rest atop his hole. He shivers, swallows. He doesn’t know what to expect, but Freddie just stays like that, rubbing his fingers in gentle circles over Willy’s hole as he resumes gently kissing Willy’s neck until he finally relaxes. Freddie must feel the way the tension drains from Willy’s muscles because he’s suddenly pressing, the tip of a single finger an insistent pressure against Willy’s hole until all at once his body opens up for it and it begins to slide inside him. 

Willy’s mouth falls open without his permission, his breaths turning uneven and echoing loudly in his ears as Freddie presses deeper and deeper inside him. His hands clench at the counter as his head tips forward until he’s staring at where his knuckles have begun to turn white, eyes wide and barely registering what he’s looking at. It feels… it feels strange, intrusive and unwelcome and yet, at the same time it sends heat beginning to pool in his stomach. Freddie stops then, and Willy has no idea how much of his finger is inside him, thinks it could be nothing more than the tip, could be the whole thing. It feels big though, big and insistent, even though Freddie isn’t moving at all. 

“Willy?” Freddie says in a tone like it maybe isn’t the first time he’s said it. 

“Yeah,” Willy says, voice shaky, “Yeah, I…” 

“Do you want me to stop?” Freddie asks, and Willy is shaking his head before he’s even really finished thinking through whether or not he actually does want Freddie to stop. Freddie shoots him a look in the mirror like he knows Willy answered too fast and Willy pauses, looks down at his hands as he takes a second to actually catalogue what he’s feeling. It’s… it’s so much but also it’s like he’s already itching for more, or at least to see if he wants more. Now that Freddie hasn’t moved in a bit he feels more relaxed too, the pressure less intense. He can’t quite decide if he likes it or not, but he thinks he’d like to find out, so he raises his eyes until he catches Freddie’s gaze. 

“Keep going,” he says, waits as Freddie’s eyes search his face. He must be satisfied with whatever he finds there because he does what Willy asks, the pressure returning as he moves his finger even deeper and Willy guesses that it really was just the tip because it feels like forever that he keeps moving it in and in. Willy’s panting by the time Freddie’s worked his entire finger inside of him, but this time Freddie doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause, just starts pulling his finger out, just as slowly as he’d pushed it in. He doesn’t pull out completely, just starts back in, and Willy swallows roughly, blinks down at his own hands. It feels… it feels overwhelming, Freddie’s finger huge inside of him, the callosus of the pad of his finger rough against Willy’s sensitive insides in a way that sends sparks shooting through his body. His stomach clenches as Freddie begins to move faster and yeah, _yeah_, oh fucking god yeah that’s… 

“God,” he gasps, looks up to see that Freddie is staring at him, has been watching Willy react to the feeling of Freddie’s huge finger working him open. Willy feels something warm, soft and happy bloom in his stomach as Freddie smiles at him, and then he’s curling his finger slightly and Willy’s gasping, jerking against Freddie’s grip. 

“There you are,” Freddie all but growls into his ear, expression hungry as he repeats the motion, and jesus, _jesus_. He doesn’t know what that even was but he knows that if Freddie stops now Willy will actually kill him. Freddie laughs when he says that, increases his speed instead, thrusting roughly in and out of Willy and hitting that spot deep inside of him every time until Willy is shaking, sweating, breath rough and torn from him with each thrust. He doesn’t hesitate when Freddie asks if he can take another and he can, opens up for it so easy compared to the first one and fucking _christ_ is Freddie big. One finger had been large enough but two makes Willy feel like he can’t get a full breath, like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He’s twitching like his body doesn’t know what to do with all of these sensations. Freddie keeps fucking his fingers in and out of him, tearing gasping breaths from Willy’s lungs as he works him open over and over again. He’s not hitting that spot quite as regularly now which Willy is honestly grateful for because he doesn’t think his legs would be able to support him if he was. As it is his entire body jerks whenever it does happen, pleasure spreading through his entire body like a flare. It feels so, so fucking good and Willy’s kinda mad he’s never tried this before because it’s fucking _amazing_ and he maybe doesn’t want to do anything else ever again, could just happily stay here for the rest of his life with Freddie’s fingers burried inside of him. 

The third is more difficult than the second, fucking huge as Freddie slowly presses them deeper and deeper inside of him but Willy wants it so bad and he forces himself to breath through it, forces his muscles to relax until all three fingers are so deep inside of him he swears he can feel it in his throat. It doesn’t take long for Freddie to build back up to his previous pace and Willy can’t think, can’t process anything other than the pleasure that’s overwhelming his every sense, the way Freddie’s fingers force him open over and over again. He’s still twitching, entire body shaking with the sensations that Freddie’s fingers are dragging from him, and it’s getting worse and worse until suddenly it’s not because Freddie has let go of his hip in favour of wrapping his hand around Willy’s throat, not tight enough that Willy can’t breath but tight enough that he can feel it, tight enough to make his cock leak. Willy watches in the mirror as precum slowly drips from his cock, as he jerks in Freddie’s grip, Freddie’s gaze on him so intense that Willy feels like he’s burning up with it. He looks debauched, wrecked, jeans barely off his hips, shirt rucked up to reveal the hard planes of his stomach, cock hard and red and swaying with each jerk of his hips as Freddie fucks into him over and over again. He’s panting, making little helpless noises as Freddie’s fingers slide in and out of him, huge and inescapable. He wants to cum, _needs,_ to cum, tells Freddie that, begs him until Freddie is laughing in his ear, low and deep. 

“If you need to cum, then cum. I’m not gonna stop you,” he says. _But I want you to_, Willy thinks but doesn’t say and huh. That’s… unexpected, and maybe a thought for another day because right now his hand is already wrapping itself around his cock, his grip tight and desperate as he slides his hand back and forth, faster and faster, in time with the movements of Freddie’s fingers in and out of his hole. Freddie shifts inside of him and suddenly he’s hitting that spot with every thrust, and Willy is crying out, far, far too loud as he cums, white streaks spattering across the floor of the bathroom as he jerks against Freddie’s grip. Freddie doesn’t stop though, keeps going until Willy finally pushes him away, weakly batting at his arm. 

“Please,” he says, voice absolutely wrecked, and Freddie laughs as he finally pulls his fingers completely out. He feels strangely empty, and he barely manages to tamp down on the urge to ask Freddie to put his fingers back. Freddie’s grabbing ahold of his arms anyways, distracting Willy from that thought and gently turning him around until Willy is facing him. When he bends down to kiss him Willy kisses him back easily, eagerly, exploring each other’s mouths as Willy’s breaths slowly return to normal. When they break apart, Willy glances down at the front of Freddie’s pants. 

“Uh… should I…?” he trails off, Freddie already shaking his head. 

“I’m good,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind Willy’s ear before bending down to press another quick kiss to Willy’s lips. He pulls back, smiles, small and happy and Willy can’t help but smile back at him, chest warm and full. 

“Go out for dinner with me?” Freddie asks. 

“Uh…” Willy says, glancing around them, remembering, for the first time in a while, where they are, that the entire team is waiting for them back out in the restaurant. 

“Not here, later. Just you and me,” Freddie says, a laugh in his voice, and Willy blushes. 

“Oh. Uh. Yes?” Freddie laughs again, kisses Willy, short and painfully sweet. 

“Ok,” he says. 

(Later, once Willy’s composed himself as best as he’s able, once he’s wiped his cum off of the tiles so some poor employee doesn’t have to do it, after Freddie’s left him with a final kiss so that they’re not coming back at the same time… later, Willy returns to the table and Auston takes one look at him and starts laughing. Willy blushes, but when he glances over at Freddie the other man is smiling back at him and yeah. Worth it.)

**Author's Note:**

> [come hang out with me on twitter](https://twitter.com/thotlander)


End file.
